


in the morning we'll start over again

by janie_tangerine



Series: some flowers bloom dead [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Canon Het Relationship, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, What-If, everything you might expect if you read the Theon chapters in adwd, major ADWD/ASOS/AFFC spoilers, this never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:18:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where Theon means to keep his promises and Robb decides that it's time to deal with the Freys, only to receive some shocking news on the way to the Twins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First thing: I apologize in advance for where I left this (please don't hate me), but the follow-up really needs to be its own chapter. I swear I'll try to update at least the next part asap. Second thing: plot is officially now happening - start fearing. Also, part four is now definitely not the only one which will be a) long-ass, b) split in two POVs, so expect more like this part and that one to happen, because it's apparently official that I can't stick to one POV or keep things brief in the first place.
> 
> With these out of the way: I still don't own them, I actually don't own anything except my alternate canon and the title is from Gaslight Anthem.

”Your Grace?”

Robb looks up from his maps, almost startled, to see his great-uncle standing at the entrance of the room. He spares a look for Theon, who’s still sitting in front of Robb’s desk, but he doesn’t seem that he has an opinion one way or the other. Better than disapproving, Robb supposes.

“Yes?”

“Our man in King’s Landing just sent in a raven.” He doesn’t say anything more even if Robb nods at him, ready for the next part.

Theon stands up from the chair at once and Robb bites his tongue - after all, no one can know what just transpired, right?

“I’m – I will go back to my room, if it please Your Grace.” He’s resolutely not looking at the Blackfish’s way.

“Of course. You may go. If you need directions just ask the guard.”

Theon leaves, walking on unsteady feet and with his shoulders hunched, and Robb tries not to curse under his breath. He goes to lock the door before giving his uncle his full attention.

“What was it?”

“Well, he had written a short while ago -“

“Yes, he said that Cersei Lannister wanted to send her bloody brother to lead the army currently residing outside the Twins. So?”

“Apparently… well, apparently the Kingslayer turned his cloak.”

For a moment Robb finds himself completely speechless.

“Come again?”

“He turned his cloak. Or better – it’s not that he changed sides, he just disappeared in the middle of the night. Along with that woman that my niece had sent to escort him.”

And who never came back because it’s not as if Sansa had been in King’s Landing when they reached it, Robb muses. Not that it was a long while ago, and considering that she had never sworn herself to _him_ , Robb could hardly have expected her to come back. Especially since he’s been on the move since the damned Red Wedding.

“I suppose that the queen isn’t too happy about it.”

“You would suppose right. But there’s something else we should worry about.”

“Wait, if he’s gone then he can’t go to the Twins, right?”

“Exactly. And they were apparently expecting him, so -“

“So they don’t have a decent commander.” The Blackfish gives him a firm nod and Robb thinks that maybe he can swing this to his advantage.

He needs to take care of the Freys before even thinking about marching with Stannis, and Stannis is still gathering men at Storm’s End – if he puts together a small trusted army and attacks the Twins without anyone expecting it while they have no one capable to organize a decent defense, maybe he could hope to do it without too much bloodshed and without risking his uncle’s life. The gods know that he doesn’t want to leave here, not now especially, and that he’d rather go to White Arbor to fetch his brother, but if they don’t strike now someone capable might come from King’s Landing and they would only lose time.

“Can we gather the bannermen now? I need a council called. Possibly before the next two hours. Or before the evening at latest.”

“Of course. Do you want Lord Seaworth to attend, too?”

“Yes,” Robb replies. “I won’t ask him to come if he doesn’t want to, but if Stannis sends a raven while I’m not here at least he should be able to answer.”

“Very well. Should I fetch you from your chambers in two hours or will I find you here?”

“My chambers,” Robb tells him. If he’s leaving in a matter of days he would like to spend a bit of time with his wife.

They both leave the solar and Robb goes straight for his room, but he changes his mind mid-way and goes for Theon’s first – he’s kind of feeling bad for not having even tried to make up an excuse so that he could stay. And he feels ridiculous for feeling bad about it because the gods know he shouldn’t.

He knocks on the door before walking in.

“It’s Robb,” he says a moment later.

“It’s open,” Theon answers. Robb walks inside the room and - well. The last thing he had been expecting was to find him in front of the mirror looking mostly dejected.

“What’s going on?” Robb asks as he moves closer.

“Nothing of import.”

“There’s a knife on that bed. Nothing of import?”

“I wasn’t going to kill myself, Robb,” Theon replies almost tiredly. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, but the thing is that, if Robb isn’t wrong, he’s looking a bit embarrassed, which… well, would be an improvement, all things considered.

“And even if I think you’re telling the truth, I would still like to know.”

Theon sighs and moves to sit on the bed. “I can’t look at this anymore,” he finally says before his hand touches a strand of hair.

“So you wanted to cut it?”

“Well, the color won’t improve but it would still look less bad.”

Robb can see his point. “And?”

Theon shrugs again and grabs the dagger with his right hand. It starts shaking the moment he touches it. Then he takes it between the three fingers on his left and it shakes harder, enough that the knife falls to the ground.

“After the fourth time I figured it was useless,” he concludes, and he sounds more resigned to it than upset. Then again to whom would he ask for help? Robb figures that he still has time before the council, and really, by this point he needs to stop telling himself that he shouldn’t care. He might as well own up to it entirely.

He nods and grabs the knife from the ground before moving to sit behind Theon on the bed.

“Robb, what are you –“

“What do you think I’m doing? Stay still.”

Theon does that at once and Robb doesn’t really like it at all – he hadn’t even phrased it as a command or an order or whatever and Theon is staying so perfectly still right now, not even a finger moving. He tries not to shudder as he takes the knife and starts cutting strands of grey, ruined hair from the back of his head.

“I might go for the Twins in a few days. Actually I was hoping to leave tomorrow,” Robb says, trying not to sound as if what just happened made him uncomfortable. Grey hair falls down on the bed’s cover.

“Did something happen?” Theon is speaking so low that Robb can barely hear him.

“Apparently Jaime Lannister grew tired of court and ran off the gods know where. And he was supposed to go defend the Twins, so… it’s either now or never.” He moves to the left side and cuts more hair - he leaves an inch of it but he tries to cut as much ruined strands as he can.

“It’s – it’s not risky, is it?”

Robb doesn’t even need to wonder why Theon would ask that.

“I don’t think so.” He takes a deep breath as he moves the knife to the other side. “But if you want to come with, I can arrange it.” He shouldn’t have said it – he thinks he could arrange that only if Davos Seaworth decided to come, because he isn’t sure that he can trust anyone else around Theon right now – and not because of what _Theon_ might do.

“I can’t -“

“I know you can’t be in a battle. That’s not what I meant. I can always say you’re coming along because I want to be sure you won’t try to escape, everyone would fall for it.” The blanket on top of the bed is covered in gray chunks of hair now – Robb thinks he wants to vomit at the sight, but instead of doing that he pushes most of it on the ground and sets on working on the last strands. “You don’t have to say yes,” he adds a moment later.

There are a few moments of silence as Robb cuts the few remaining long strands of hair left on the front of Theon’s head – what’s left now isn’t more than an inch long. The color is still disgusting, but at least the hair itself looks slightly healthier. He’s running the back of his hand over Theon’s neck so that the remaining strands that fell on his shoulders end up on the ground when Theon lets out a huge breath and finally stops standing still like a block of ice.

“I want to come,” he says weakly as Robb puts away the knife and moves from staying behind him to sitting next to him. More hair falls to the ground as Robb brushes it away from the blanket. “But if it’s a problem –“

“I’ll see about it,” Robb cuts him short. Then he takes a good look at him – well, short hair looks strange on him because he’s never had it like that, not as far as Robb can remember, but it’s still better than the alternative. “And I’m sorry about before.”

“You had to,” Theon says before turning back towards the mirror. He takes a good look at himself as well, though he doesn’t seem too pleased. Then again, he doesn’t seem too unpleased either – better than nothing.

“Thank you,” he says a moment later. His voice still sounds small. Robb doesn’t even think about it before reaching out and running a hand over his cheek - at least the stubble is dark.

“It was nothing.” He swallows. “Right. I have to go, I need to see Jeyne before going to the council. I’ll let you know.”

“Of course. Thanks.” Robb wishes that Theon would just stop thanking him, but he knows better than to try and dissuade him now. He thinks about the way he went still before and he wants to vomit all over again.

\--

“I have to leave for the Twins shortly,” he tells Jeyne later, as he lays down on the bed – she’s already sitting up against the headboard, their daughter sleeping against her breast. Robb can only see brown hair against Jeyne’s chest, the rest of her covered in an embroidered blanket, and he’s half-sure that if someone were squeezing his heart in a fist that’s how it would feel.

“Did you find a way to get there safely?”

“No, but they might be going through a convenient void of power. Better now than waiting. I just – I was hoping that I could go get my little brother instead, but I can’t postpone this. I also was hoping to spend more time here before I have to leave for King’s Landing.”

_With you and my daughter_ , he doesn’t say, but from the way Jeyne is looking at him he thinks that she understands. She reaches down with her left hand and laces her fingers through his. “I understand. I’d rather have you go now and come back alive, though, if going now means less risk.”

“It does,” he agrees. “I just wish it was done already.”

She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back. When Catelyn starts to stir he motions for Jeyne to hand her over – gods, she really has his mother’s eyes. Well, his own, too, but that’s not the point. He forces himself not to cry at the though as he cradles her against his shoulder. Then Jeyne takes a deep breath and Robb has an idea that he won’t like what she’s about to say.

“Robb – I think – listen, I’m not sure my mother should be allowed to remain where she is.”

“What do you mean?”

“She – she sent for me more than once. Well, she told her guard that she wished to speak to me and I always refused. But – she asked again this morning and I figured I would go if only to tell her that I wasn’t interested in whatever she had to say.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing of import. She tried to justify herself and I told her that I didn’t really care, but then I took a look around and – Robb, there is ink and paper in that room. I don’t put past her that she might try to corrupt the guard or something like that, and I think she was writing a letter.” Her face looks pained right now – of course it does, she’s condemning her own mother, isn’t she. Robb can’t help feeling like he’s been ruining everything he’s touched since they put a crown on his head. “I just – I can’t ignore it. You almost died once and she had a hand in it, I can’t risk it a second time.”

He puts his free arm around her, drawing her against his shoulder – she goes in a moment, almost melting against his side. “Thank you,” he says, his throat feeling choked. “I wish it wasn’t like that.”

“Me, too,” she replies thinly, and neither of them speaks until the Blackfish knocks on Robb’s door and he has to go.

The moment he closes the door behind him he takes another deep breath. “Uncle, could you please send two guards to Lady Sybelle’s tower? Tell them to search her desk – no, to search the entire room. If they find letters of any kind, I want her back in a cell and the letters brought to me.”

“Do you think that she’s dangerous?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure as the seven hells not going to fall for it twice.”

The Blackfish tells him he’ll do that and that he’ll join him at the council shortly. Robb leaves wishing that he knew how did everything go so wrong.

\--

Thankfully all of his bannermen agree on moving on the Twins now, and on Robb’s strategy - they agree on leaving in the morrow, with a smaller army of trusted men. Davos Seaworth says that he will come along, too, since he received a raven from Stannis telling him that it would take him longer than a week to finish his business and head for Riverrun, so he doesn’t have to be here. When everyone else is gone, Robb stops him before he leaves as well.

“My lord, can I ask another favor of you?”

“Of course. If it’s in my power.”

“I was in the mind of bringing Theon along. Actually, he said he wants to go, and I’m still sure that some of my bannermen would take the occasion if it meant having his head. I realize that it sounds demeaning, especially when I’m not _your_ king –“

“You would like for me to keep an eye on him when you can’t?”

Robb understands more and more why Stannis likes this man. He doesn’t dance around his words, that’s for sure, and to be honest Robb finds it refreshing.

“If you would. I understand that you might not -“

“I would,” Lord Seaworth interrupts. “I mean, I doubt my fighting skills would be much use to you - ship battles are more my expertise. I wished to come mostly because… well, I never was much used to living in a castle. Or to being attended to. I would rather feel like I’m doing something useful. I can do it.”

“My thanks.” Robb doesn’t try to hide how relieved he sounds, not when Seaworth knows whatever is there to know.

“It’s no problem. And don’t think that I might find that request demeaning. I used to smuggle for a living, Your Grace – nothing you can ask of me or that my king could ask of me will ever be demeaning. And your friend is hardly the most unpleasant person I ever dealt with.”

“My thanks again.”

At least that went good, he decides.

Then his uncle approaches him and hands him a handful of letters.

“Were these –“

“They found them under the mattress. She’s currently residing in the Kingslayer’s former quarters again. But if you look at the dates, is seems like she hasn’t found any means to send them or any others. Which is a good thing, at least.”

Robb doesn’t really want to read any of them, but he knows he has to.

They’re all addressed to King’s Landing – obviously. There’s plenty of information, including how many men he currently has, that he now has a daughter that could easily be harmed and also the details of his deal with Stannis – damn, she must have learned about it before they found her out.

He doesn’t even go past the second letter.

“Leave her there until I’m back and bring her food twice each day. Never the same guard. When I’m back I’m going to deal with her, and with Roose Bolton as well, but I can’t afford that right now. And put her in bloody chains – maybe she won’t be tempted to write letters.”

At least he doesn’t have to be the one to break Jeyne the news. Or better, he has to, but it’s probably nothing she isn’t expecting. He’s never wished this hard that things went differently.


	2. Chapter 2

After Robb leaves, Theon stands still for a bit, trying to commit to memory the way Robb’s hand had felt against his cheek. Or remembering that he barely felt the knife touching his head before – he doesn’t know if Robb did it on purpose, but if it’s the case then he’s grateful.

Then he stands up and shakes away all the hair that was still on his clothes and on the blanket, until it forms a sad gray lump on the floor. The sight makes him sick and he wishes he could do something about it, but he can’t, and so he goes outside the room, stops the first maid that passes by and asks her if she may please clean up, and he’s sorry for disturbing her. She sends him a queer glance before she leaves and comes back with a broom. In a short while there’s nothing on the ground anymore – there’s just his face in the mirror. He looks a bit closer to his real age now – some, at least, though not much; but dull gray isn’t Targaryen silver and there’s not much he can do about it. Or about his hand. Or his feet. Or –

He needs to stop thinking in these terms. He still doesn’t understand how Robb could ever have brought himself to forgive him, but now that he’s had a last chance that he never dreamed he could get, he’s not going to be a disappointment all over again.

Except that _how_ could he ever be useful to Robb is another question entirely. He can’t fight, he can’t surely give advice and he can’t even sleep four hours on his own without waking up – Robb hasn’t made a great deal. It’s too late, he thinks despairingly.

He sighs and takes off his shoes, feeling tired all over – he figures that he might at least get some sleep when he can get it and when he actually has a bed to sleep on.

Clearly, when he wakes up he wants to vomit and there’s cold sweat all over his face, and the sun is setting, and someone is knocking on the door.

“Come in,” he says weakly, hoping that whoever it is heard. It’s probably Robb, who else would knock –

It’s Davos Seaworth.

“My lord,” Theon starts, and he receives a shake of the head.

“How many times did I tell you that I’m not your lord? I merely wanted to tell you that I’m riding with your king tomorrow. Find me when we leave – you’re riding with me.”

“Oh. But – are you sure that –“

“Lad, calm down. He asked me, I accepted of my own free will. I have no problem with it. I’m not going to join the fight either – I suppose we can make each other company.” Then he leaves before Theon can point out that he’d be pretty poor company. But that stated… well, he could do a lot worse. Actually, not counting Robb, he couldn’t really do better. Knowing that he won’t spend the next two weeks or so mostly in the company of someone who resents him on principle is perfectly fine with him.

He’s feeling hungry now – he hasn’t eaten since the morning and he’s half-sure that maybe that conversation with Robb might be the reason why he feels like he won’t throw up what he swallows. If he can find food, obviously. He doubts he’d be welcome in the kitchens or the dining hall or anywhere else, but it’s not like he can bother Robb with such petty matters. He’s debating asking the maid again even if it feel strange just to have the possibility to do it, and then there’s another knock on his door.

He figures he’ll open himself for once, considering that apparently a lot of people are looking for him today.

He expects for it to be Robb, but when he opens the door he’s faced with a girl that can’t be older than sixteen, who’s holding a tiny bundle to her chest that looks very much like a baby. Her chestnut brown hair is falling in curls over her shoulders and she’s pretty though not overtly so, and it takes Theon a moment to realize that this must be Robb’s wife and _damn_ , what should he do now?

“Your Grace,” he stammers, desperately asking himself if he should kneel or _something_ , but she shakes her head, her lips curling up in a tired smile.

“None of that,” she replies. “You must be Theon, or so I was told.”

“Yes,” he confirms.

“May I - may I have a word with you? In private.”

“Of course.” He hastily moves away from the entrance so that she can come inside the room. She heads straight for a chair next to the bed, sitting down. The baby in her arms stirs, but doesn’t wake up. Theon feels at a loss, but in the end he opts for taking the only other chair in the room and moving it in front of hers. She keeps her eyes on him and he doesn’t know what she might be trying to figure out, and – gods, right, didn’t she sleep with Robb in the first place after he knew that Theon had presumably killed his brothers? She probably isn’t finding him very threatening right now. He doesn’t even know if he should excuse himself for being indirectly the reason her life was ruined (most probably), but then again whenever she looks down at her daughter she doesn’t seem to regret it, so he merely opts for keeping his mouth shut. It’s never betrayed him until now, has it?

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” she says, breaking the silence.

“Uh – I – if my lady –“

“If you think that it’s about Robb spending the night with you, you’re wrong,” she says, sounding almost amused, and – all right. He’s lost. What else should this be about?

“I’m sorry if –“

“I told him to. It’s all right. After I heard you, I would have felt quite horrible if I hadn’t agreed with it.”

He swallows, not even knowing what he should say. She _doesn’t_ have a problem with it?

“Then why…?”

“For one, I – I was curious.” She half-blushes at that and Theon – Theon is even more at a loss. “I mean, this might be the first time we meet but –“

“But you wouldn’t have married him if it hadn’t been for my actions?”

He regrets having spoken the moment the words are out of his mouth, but she merely nods at him. “Yes. And – it’s complicated. I should regret it, considering everything that happened, but – all things considered, I don’t. I don’t think I ever could. It’s – it’s queer, I suppose. But if you want to know why I told him to… well, I think you know him better than I do. I wouldn’t – if he was different, I’d probably be regretting everything right now. But he’s –“

“Worth it,” he says quietly when she finds herself at a loss for words.

“How did you guess?”

“Because I realized that same thing too late. My own family as a whole wasn’t worth it and I – I wouldn’t have done half of what I did if I only had understood that. Took me long enough to realize I should have been with him all along, so – I suppose I get it. You – you mean that you wouldn’t love him half as much if he wasn’t the kind of person who finds it in themselves to think that I can make it up to him somewhat?”

“For what it’s worth, it seems to me like he’s not wrong on that, at least.”

“My lady?”

“It’s – it’s quite obvious that you would. Do anything to make it up to him. Which - well, I suppose it’s a good thing.”

Theon is starting to suspect that he must be dreaming. He can’t be having this conversation with Robb’s wife.

“A good thing?”

She takes a deep breath, her hand running through her daughter’s hair. “Since the wedding - well, I haven’t seen him as much as I would have wished since he was North, but – his mother died. My brothers died too – well, the ones who were in his guard and with whom he used to speak most. Until he found you, he was sure that all of his siblings except Sansa and Jon Snow were dead as well. He hasn’t said it out loud, but we’ve been – it’s been two years since we married. And – I like to think I know him well enough to say that he’s only pretending to be taking it in stride. Actually, I think that he doesn’t even care about you making it up to him as long as you don’t – uh, you don’t -“

“Betray him again, my lady?” It comes out more self-deprecating than sarcastic, but she doesn’t deserve that from him. “Rest assured that it’s the farthest thing from my mind right now.”

“Good. And – don’t worry, I wasn’t assuming that. I told you, it takes a look to see that you wouldn’t. But –that wasn’t everything I wanted to say. It’s that – all right. I suppose you don’t know about the fine details of what happened when he was gone.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Well. My mother was – she helped plan the Red Wedding.”

She looks up at him and – gods be good, Theon can recognize the look on her face. He’s sure he’s sported it himself enough times. “She – she did?”

“She was - she was in contact with Tywin Lannister. Her part was – feeding me moon tea instead of fertility potions so that he wouldn’t have an heir, and then after the wedding I’d have gone to some other Lannister lord after making sure that I wasn’t carrying Robb’s heir. We didn’t find out until I actually was with child and I kept on feeling worse whenever she gave me some tea that she said would help. I don’t know why she kept on with it even after Robb didn’t go there, but – I suppose she thought that there still was enough risk that he wouldn’t win the war.” She takes a deep breath. “And she was still writing letters to King’s Landing when I visited her yesterday. She was locked in one of the towers.”

“And now?”

“She’s in the dungeons.”

So she _is_ giving up her family for Robb.

He wishes he had been smart enough to do the same years ago, but he doesn’t say it.

“They said none of the letters were sent, but – in case they were – well. He’s going towards a castle full of Freys and surrounded by Lannisters. No one should know, but if anything goes wrong -“

“If you’re about to ask me to look out for him, I’m afraid I can’t really do much. As much as I wish I could.”

“I wasn’t. Just – be there for him if something happens.”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t do much of a great job of that either.” Not when Robb is the one who’s done that until now, and Theon can barely wrap his head around that to begin with.

“It doesn’t matter what _you_ think. I don’t think that he would care about how you do it. He needs someone who knows him and who won’t see him just as a king. And it can’t be me – not there.”

He gets her. He really does. And – he has no idea of how he could even do it, but she’s right. Not to mention that it seems like the both of them want exactly the same thing, which would be keeping Robb in their lives as long as possible.

“I will do my best,” he finally says. She gives him a small relieved smile, and then the baby in her arms whimpers a couple of times. Jeyne looks down at her as if it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen and Theon wishes he wasn’t here to see this, because – well, he should feel happy for her, but knowing that _he_ ’s one of the reasons why that baby exists right now is threatening to gain him a headache.

Then he decides that he should at least pay his queen some basic courtesies.

“I – I haven’t congratulated you. On – well.” He nods towards the baby. “She’s beautiful.” He knows it shows that he’s fishing for words, but Jeyne looks pleased in the way only a recent mother could be.

“I still can’t believe the two of us survived it at times,” she sighs.

“Believe me, I still can’t believe that my head has stayed on my neck this far.” 

She laughs, not too hard and not too long, but it’s genuine at least. Then she looks straight at him again. “I was about to have dinner brought up to my room. At this point I might as well have it brought here for the both of us?”

“If it please my lady.”

He’s relieved when dinner actually stays in his stomach, and they eat it in silence, but it’s fine. He thinks they said everything there was to say, and at least she isn’t sending pitying looks at him whenever he’s forced to put his left hand in plain sight.

She leaves after the maid cleans up, not saying anything either, but the glance that she sends him before leaving was eloquent enough. He doesn’t know why she would even think that _he_ could do anything for Robb right now, but he’s sure as the seven hells going to try and live up to it.

\--

The morning after, as he brings his horse next to Davos Seaworth’s, there isn’t a single friendly stare directed at him in the entire group.

Robb is riding in the front, so it’s not as if Theon can go there as well. Not that he expected it. He stops the horse next to Lord Seaworth’s, not bothering to hide that he feels fucking tired. At least he did rest a bit – Robb didn’t come, but he managed sleep dreamlessly for once and really, Robb should have been with his wife if for some reason he doesn’t come back. He shudders and then forces himself to look at his left side.

“Good morrow. My lord.”

“Are you at it again?” Davos sounds like he’s getting resigned to it. “If you really have to, at least use ser. But I’m not your lord. And don’t excuse yourself.”

Theon keeps his mouth wisely shut.

It’s not horribly bad at the beginning, even if he can hear whispers from all the northern men around him. Maybe they’d be more satisfied if he was in chains. They leave at dawn, and by the time the sun is high up in the sky he’s heard the word _turncloak_ at least forty times, but it’s nothing he hadn’t expected. Some people definitely ask themselves, loud enough for him to hear, why Robb hasn’t in fact chained him. Theon is almost tempted to ask Ser Davos to find him some damned chains just so that they would shut up, but he’s spent enough time chained in the Dreadfort and the idea makes him want to retch, so he grits his (mostly fake) teeth and rides on. It was better when he was riding next to Robb, when they were still North – at least no one had the guts to speak out loud where Robb could hear them, but it’s not as if he can do much about it.

Everything goes reasonably well until they stop to eat. He’s tempted to ask Ser Davos to get a bowl for him, too, but – no. He has to make it up to Robb someway. And he won’t do it if he can’t even go get his own bloody food. So he walks towards the man handing out the stew. The cook looks at him as if he’d really like to see him dead. Theon stares back and doesn’t do anything except holding out his gloved right hand.

Eventually a bowl is shoved into his fingers along with a spoon. He’s quick to go back where Ser Davos is, that was more than enough staring for the day. He’s also starving, for once – at least his appetite is back, right? He won’t complain about it.

His good mood lasts exactly the time it takes him to look inside the bowl. The meat is crawling with worms.

Nothing that would upset a grown man, and nothing that he wouldn’t expect, but the sight makes him think of his cell in the Dreadfort, with its worms and its flies and the occasional rat passing by - and gods, once he had almost thought that he _could_ eat a rat for how hungry he had been. He feels vomit rising up in his throat as he desperately tries to keep it back down - he doesn’t need to do this in front of everyone else, it’s probably what they want, but the effort probably shows on his face. He feels tears rising to his eyes and he forces himself to push them back, too, as he puts the bowl back on the ground and tries to will his fingers to stop shaking.

A moment later the bowl is snatched by Ser Davos, who looks at it with disgust for a moment before turning towards him.

“Are you going to be sick?” he asks. At least he doesn’t sound reproachful. Theon shakes his head - if he actually tries to speak he probably _will_ be sick, but he thinks he can keep it down.

“All right. Do you think you can eat?” He shakes his head again.

“Do you want me to tell His Grace that –“

“No. Please, don’t, he has enough to worry about.” Well. He can speak without vomiting, at least.

“Very well.” He stands up, bringing the bowl with him and walking calmly towards the makeshift camp kitchen, skips the line of men still waiting for their meal and –

Theon can barely believe his eyes when he sees Ser Davos dumping the entire content of his plate into the main pot, thus ruining everyone else’s lunch.

“Why in the seven hells did you do that?” The cook doesn’t seem too pleased with it. “This is all gone to waste now!”

“What a pity. I shall hope your king already ate, because otherwise I would be forced to tell him about what has just happened, and something tells me that he would side with me.”

“But –“

“He might be a hostage, but I’m fairly sure that _His Grace_ never told you to feed him worms. Should I call him and ask? Also, you don’t really want to make me angry – _my_ king doesn’t appreciate this kind of thing either – I trust that you have heard of the siege of Storm’s End, didn’t you? While I am very sorry that you will all have to wait until this evening for your food, maybe you will learn how it feels to go hungry for a bit. Gods be good, you can see that he’s malnourished just by looking at him and you feed him worms? You can think twice about it next time.”

The cook doesn’t even attempt to answer - after all, the terms are known. The moment the war is over and if they win, Ser Davos will in fact be the Hand of the rightful king of the seven realms and you don’t really cross a Hand of any king. Former commoner or not. The line breaks and someone shouts at the cook that if he tries it another time they’ll have their head – putting a turncloak in his place isn’t worth missing their food, seven hells.

“Are you really sure that you can’t eat?” Ser Davos calmly asks as he sits back down and takes back his own bowl.

“I’m – I’m sorry, I think can’t. Not now. I’d probably throw up.”

“Don’t be sorry, I get it.”

“Ser… thank you. You didn’t have to, but –“ _But it’s nice that someone might want to stand up for me?_ He isn’t sure he should say that kind of thing out loud.

“I know how it is,” Ser Davos cuts him. “I wasn’t exactly swimming in gold when I was a smuggler and had three children and a wife to feed. When I smuggled fish and onions into the castle during the siege of Storm’s End they were about to eat their own dead, since they had eaten almost all their cats and dogs already – you don’t forget that kind of thing. These fools obviously never went through that and they don’t know your reasons for supposedly turning your cloak either, so the Others can take their precious lunch as far as I’m concerned. I’m pretty sure Robb Stark would agree with me, so stop worrying. They deserved it. Also, I can’t imagine that this attitude will help you, if you want to actually make up for your wrongdoings.”

“I wasn’t expecting any less,” he admits.

“And it’s probably a good thing that you weren’t, but it still doesn’t mean that you should have them making it harder on you when you already do that yourself. Lighten up, lad. Your king is happy enough with the fact that you’re willing to try, take it for the good thing that it is.”

“… Sorry, _what_?”

“Well, you two spoke yesterday morning, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Yesterday evening, at dinner, he looked as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. And now you seem at least somewhat determined to stop punishing yourself. Stands to reason that it was because that talk went well.”

“It – it did, actually. But how did you guess that -“

“Lad, he’s been itching to give you another chance for a while. I could see it when he asked me to bring you to Pyke the first time. And I think it would have been the only thing that might have made you stop worrying about what you’ve done and think about what you will do instead. It doesn’t take much to guess.”

“You can’t seriously mean that me being _willing to try_ is enough, though.”

“Oh, I do. At least, it is for him. Stop worrying and just do your best, I’m sure he’s going to appreciate it. And if you feel like making an effort, you can have the last half of my lunch.”

Theon settles for a quarter of it, which makes him feel ridiculously guilty but at least silences his stomach for a bit, and thinks about what he’s just heard, and he wishes he could bring himself to believe it.

\--

They ride straight for the entire day and for half of the next. No one tries to feed him worms anymore, which Theon is only grateful for, and he sleeps straight through the first night again, so he can’t complain about that either.

It’s early afternoon on the second day when they run into the first hanged body.

The corpse is swinging from a tree – it wears a cloak with the Frey sigil on the front. It’s obviously a man, but there’s no way to see his face clearly. No one stops to take it down, though, so Theon supposes that Robb has decided to leave it there. 

Not much later, there’s a second, and there are flies dancing around it. It smells of decay, and they don’t stop for that either. But at the fifth corpse dressed in Frey colors that they find later, this one way beyond decomposed, they come to a halt and a short while later a page comes to tell Ser Davos that the king wants to talk to him. Theon trails along wordlessly. When they reach Robb in the front, he looks pale and mildly disturbed.

“My lord,” he says nodding towards Davos. “I know that you haven’t been here lately, but none of us can figure this out. Has your king heard something regarding this, before he left for the Wall?”

“I’m afraid not. Surely no one saw fit to inform him or I would have known.”

And then Theon remembers.

“Wait,” he whispers.

Robb turns towards him, looking more surprised than else. “ _You_ might know about this?”

“Not – not exactly. I remembered just now, but – there was one time. At the Dreadfort, I – I wasn’t – I was allowed into the main hall.” He doesn’t add that he had spent that time under the table at Ramsay’s feet – no one needs to know. “I don’t really recall the details, but Roose Bolton was reading some ravens aloud. And there was one about some group of outlaws hanging people left and right in the Riverlands. Mostly Lannister soldiers and Freys, but also some of his own men. I suppose it’s why he was warned in the first place. Then he spoke about sending men to investigate it, but – I really – that’s all I remember.”

“You’re sure you can’t be a bit more useful than that?” Theon can’t help flinching as he forces himself to look at Mors Umber – the one who asked.

“I – I really can’t. I’m sorry. My lord. But – at that point – I really couldn’t have -“

“That’s enough,” Robb interrupts, and Theon lets out a breath of relief. He really doesn’t need anyone to know why he couldn’t have paid more attention at that point, but from the way Robb’s looking at him, it seems that Robb has guessed right. “I don’t see anyone else sharing more useful information. All right. You might as well ride with us, in case you remember more.”

Theon knows that he won’t, but he recognizes the offer for what it is and stays just behind Robb. He kind of hopes that he won’t have to go back to the rear tomorrow.

\--

They end up making camp in the late afternoon – the sun is about to set. They passed another three corpses or so – Lannister soldiers, this time. Theon doesn’t like it one bit, even if whoever is doing this is apparently on their side, considering who is getting hanged. He puts his pack in Ser Davos’s tent and he’s thinking about getting some more sleep before dinner is served when a soldier comes to tell him that His Grace wants to see him. Theon forces himself to stand up, wishing that his feet didn’t hurt as much as they do, and follows the guard to Robb’s tent. Ser Davos leaves as he comes in and Theon - well, he can guess that they might have been discussing him.

He sincerely hopes not, and then he walks inside the tent. Robb is sitting on the ground and he’s alone.

“I told all the guards to leave,” Robb says a moment later. “Sit down.”

Theon does, gingerly. “I’m going to have a word with the cook the moment we’re back.”

“He told you?”

“Of course he told me.”

“Don’t bother. It’s just going to make them like you less.”

“It’s a question of principle. That’s not how you treat –“

“Let it go. It’s not going to happen again, I think. Don’t give them reasons to hate you.”

Robb shakes his head and seems to relent, for now at least. Hopefully it’s going to stay like this. “Fine. But if it happens again, I will do something. And now I just have to hope that we don’t run into outlaws, on top of everything.”

“I wish I remembered more, but -“

“Don’t even say that. I think I can imagine fairly well why you wouldn’t have known more and I’m not sure that I want to hear it. Or that you even want to talk about it.”

It’s not exactly right - he would tell if Robb asked, but he’d really rather try to forget it instead. “Still. From what I gathered they were interested only in - well. In the people who had a hand in the Red Wedding. I don’t think you should be worried.”

Robb nods and looks down at the ground. Hells, Theon hadn’t noticed how tired he looked until now, but he seems as if he could go to sleep for the next two years. He’s about to try and say anything to at least change the subject when suddenly a guard walks inside the tent without warning.

“Your Grace,” they say. “I know you said not to disturb you, but – there are two knights who wish to see you as soon as possible and they won’t take no for an answer.”

“Two knights?”

“They arrived at the camp just now. Do I let them in?”

“All right.”

“Robb, do you want me to go?”

Robb looks at him, then shakes his head. “No. Stay. If they aren’t from this army they will barely care.”

A moment later, two people walk into the tent. Both are tall and well-built, though one has most definitely larger shoulders than the other. And both are wearing a hood.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“Your Grace,” the larger one says, and –

That’s not a man’s voice. The hood comes down and… well, that might be the ugliest woman Theon’s ever seen in his life, but still a woman. Her nose has been broken at least thrice, her lips are definitely too big and they’re so cracked that they bleed in a couple of points. He can see freckles on her cheeks in the candlelight, and her hair is more straw than golden blonde. She does have two lovely blue eyes, though.

And then Robb’s eyes go wide.

“You must be –“

“Brienne of Tarth, Your Grace.”

“Wait. If _you_ are here, then –“

“I was wondering how long would it take for you to get it,” the other man says. And Theon recognizes the voice – a moment later, the hood is pulled down and Jaime Lannister is standing in the middle of the tent. Robb’s eyes go wary at once.

“What jape is this?”

“Your Grace,” Brienne says before Lannister can speak. “May I explain the situation to you before you imprison the two of us? I swear, this is not what it looks like.”

“‘Course it’s not. Did you miss the part where I turned my cloak?” Lannister snorts.

“ _Jaime_.” She sounds almost exasperated, and – well. Lannister does keep his mouth shut at that.

“Speak,” Robb says, still looking up at her. Gods, she’s a lot taller than him.

“When I received news of your lady mother, I was on my way to King’s Landing. Well, _we_ were.” She glances at Lannister before looking back at Robb. “I was still planning to exchange him for your sisters and bring them back to you. But when we reached the city… Arya was nowhere to be found and Sansa wasn’t either.”

“If I may speak,” Lannister interrupts, “you can stop worrying about one thing at least. Your little sister disappeared the day your father died. No one’s seen her since.”

“Go on.” Robb is looking at Lannister as if he can’t even comprehend the fact that he’s _here_.

“I had no clue of what I should have done. Well, I thought about coming back to join your army, but – you would have had all the reasons to refuse me. I was sworn to your mother, after all, and I hadn’t done you a favor by obeying her orders. He told me that I might as well stay there while I took a decision. And – I fear you will have to hear him out at this point.”

“Fine. Lannister, what are you even doing here?”

Lannister shrugs before reaching for the hem of his cloak with his left hand. Theon bites his tongue in order not to gasp out loud when he sees a golden fake hand in place of Lannister’s right one. He also can’t help noticing that he has two swords on his belt – queer. What would you do with two swords if you don’t have both hands? “It happened that _this_ got lost on our little trip to King’s Landing. Thanks to some bandits who thought that it would please Roose Bolton to deliver me to him like this. I also suppose that they thought I couldn’t run or fight if they cut a hand from me. Anyway, you don’t want to hear the fine details. It should suffice that I actually did want to send your sister back to you.”

“You did.”

“Sure. Just to show you and your bloody mother that I can keep an oath if I want to. But your sister wasn’t there. Not to mention that no one was happy with the little loss I suffered along the road. A lot of things happened that didn’t make me exactly too happy, but long story short, my sister wants your sister’s head. Along with yours, obviously. And she also thought that I should go defending the Twins.”

“All right. And?”

“And, and, and. Stark, you might not believe me, but I do have _some_ principles. For one, if I want to kill someone, I do that myself. I certainly don’t trick them into eating my bread before starting a massacre. Do you think that I felt like helping that scum? The Kingsguard is supposed to be better than that. Not to mention that - I _did_ swear to your mother that I wouldn’t raise arms against her family.”

“And you actually want to _keep_ it?”

“Why not? Whatever. The point is, there really wasn’t much there for me. And I had a hunch that the wench over here would have loved a chance to fulfill her oath.”

“What – are you two searching for my sister?”

“Yes,” Brienne interrupts. “He asked me if I was willing to go find her and bring her to you. I said I would. And – he gave me this.” She takes her sword from the sheath, and it’s obvious even in the candlelight – it’s Valyrian steel. Red and black. “It was – it’s the same steel as your father’s own sword – they melted it and had two swords forged out of it. The other was to be given to King Joffrey. And – I would be glad to give this back to you, after I find your sister.”

Robb’s eyes have gone so wide that it’d be almost comical, if not for the circumstances. “Wait,” Lannister says before he can refuse. “I was forgetting. Since we’re here, we might as well be done with it and I can get rid of useless weight.” He reaches for one of the swords at his belt with his left hand and he curses under his breath when he doesn’t manage to dislodge it. Brienne moves closer and does that for him – he huffs as she hands him the sheath.

And then he throws it at Robb, who catches it just barely - he obviously wasn’t expecting it. He sends Lannister a wary glance before glancing at the sword. There’s a lion with ruby eyes on the handle, and Robb makes a disgusted face at it before taking the sword out of the sheath.

His face suddenly goes from disgusted to awed. It’s Valyrian steel as well - still black and red, but it’s a smaller sword than the one that Brienne has. “Is – is this –“ Robb stammers, obviously at a loss for words.

“The other half of your father’s sword. It should have gone to Tommen, but I can safely assure you that he has no use for it right now. Or that he might have one for it in the future. They named it Widow’s Wail, but you’re more than welcome to find a better name for it. I realize that the sight of it might not be the most appropriate, all things considered, but I wasn’t the one who decided the fine details. And since I went through the trouble of taking it with me at all, and since I’m telling you to keep it right now, you can stop worrying. I’m not here to cross you.”

Robb nods at him before putting the sword back in the sheath. He doesn’t give it back.

“Getting back to the point,” Lannister starts again before Robb can say anything, “she accepted, and then I thought that I might as well have gone with her – I was this close to done with courtly games already. So we left and I suppose you know that part.”

“And – did you find anything out?” Robb sounds still skeptical, but that’d be a given. Theon doesn’t know if he’s ever heard such a crazy story, except that Brienne looks uttermost sincere as she speaks and he likes to think that he can recognize a practiced liar by now. She’s not one. And – well, Lannister seems not to be lying either. Why would he even steal that sword in the first place?

“It’s a long story. We were thinking of going to the Vale, since the lead we were following ended up being wrong, but - well. That’s the reason why we’re here. I would have come with your sister or not at all, but something happened and – we thought you should have known. We saw your banners on the road, and we took the occasion.”

“What – what happened?”

“Stark, your mother is not as dead as everyone thought.”

For a moment, the entire room goes silent. Then Robb sends Lannister a stare that would have killed a lesser man. “Lannister, I might actually believe your story until now, but if you think that –“

“It’s the truth,” Brienne interrupts. “I wouldn’t believe it either, if I were you, too, but – did you see the bodies, right?”

“The hanged Freys along the road?”

“Yes. It’s – it’s a group of bandits. The Brotherhood Without Banners, they call themselves. We ran into some of them and – they were too many even for two. And I suppose they recognized us. They – they brought us to their camp. And they said that their lady would have loved to speak to us.”

“Their _lady_?”

“It was your mother. I have no clue of how she still lives – there’s a red priest between them, maybe it’s some kind of magic no one knows of, but – it was her. She’s not – she’s more of a corpse than else, but she lives. And she wasn’t very happy with what she saw. She thought that I had turned my cloak, and – it took a while to convince her that it was not the case. But – I think that she still remembered enough she let us go after hearing us both. On the premise that we would have gone searching for Sansa and that we would bring her to them, obviously.”

“Which is what we’re going to do regardless, if we ever find her,” Lannister interrupts. “But since we had the luck of running into you, we supposed you should be told before you ended up finding out for yourself.”

Robb’s face goes even paler and he reaches out towards the only table in the tent, steadying himself against it.

“Listen,” he says, “do you really expect me to believe this? I mean, I suppose that if this was a trap you would have come up with a more plausible story, and I highly doubt that you’d be giving me what’s left of my father’s sword just to trick me, but -“

“Wait.” Brienne reaches for the pack she had with her and she takes something from it, then she hands it over to Robb. “This was – she gave this to me because – I would have to convince Sansa to come if I did find her, right? I – I know it’s hard to believe it, but how would I have this otherwise?”

Robb reaches out to take whatever she’s handing him and a moment later his hands start shaking and a handful of red hair with some streaks of white, wrapped in a small ribbon, falls down on the desk.

Theon thinks that Robb is this close to vomiting. And he’s this close to vomiting too, because it’s not the first time he’s seen that hair.

“That’s – that couldn’t be anyone else’s,” Robb whispers. “Where – where did you say that they are staying?”

“If – if you want to go there… well, if you left now you could be back by midday tomorrow,” Brienne says. “We could bring you. Believe me, I’m not crossing you. I never would. And he – he means it. I wouldn’t have thought it when we first started that journey, but – he means no harm to you.”

“Wench, I’m _touched_ to see you take my side.”

“Do you want me to change my mind?” she hisses, and Theon can’t help wondering how they can find it in themselves to act like – like _that_ in these circumstances. He wishes he could. But then Robb looks down at the handful of hair again before visibly swallowing and handing it back to Brienne.

“We’re leaving as soon as I settle a couple of matters. Get ready, I’ll join you shortly.”

The two of them put their hoods back on and leave the tent - Robb’s hands are shaking so hard that Theon thinks he might faint.

“Robb? Are you – are you going alone?”

“It would be best, even if it’s probably a bad idea. Then again, if it’s true – and it seems like it is – I can’t risk anyone in the army knowing,” Robb whispers, sounding entirely not convinced about it. Meanwhile, he grabs the sword that Lannister gave him and attaches it to his belt before turning to the chair where he had left his mail.

“I could – I could come. If you want.” Theon has no clue of why he’s offering – but Robb’s eyes turn grateful and for a moment he finds himself at a loss for words.

“You would?”

“If you don’t let anyone kill me,” he tries to joke without much mirth in it.

“I won’t. All right. I’ll go tell Ser Davos to stay here in my stead and if anyone asks about you, you’re coming with me because you’re the only one who knows _something_ about those people. We should be back early enough.”

Robb runs out after he finishes putting on the mail and Theon follows him - by the time he reaches the other tent, Ser Davos is out of it and heading for Robb’s. Theon puts on a heavier cloak with a hood that will cover his face almost completely, and then goes for his horse. He leads it quietly until he sees Robb saddling his own and talking with Maege Mormont. He tells her that he received news of the outlaws and that he’s going to deal with it, and he doesn’t need anyone to come with and he’ll come back by midday. He tells her to supervise things along with Ser Davos until he’s back and when she accepts he pulls on the hood on his own cloak. Brienne and Jaime Lannister are ready to leave, horses and all. Theon mounts his own horse after Robb does - damn, if only you could replace fingers in your feet the way you can replace teeth.

Robb’s hands are still shaking as he rides out of the camp.

Theon keeps himself as close as possible, wondering what in the seven hells he’s thinking to accomplish, and as they follow the other two down the road (there’s another rotting body on a tree ahead, he can’t help noticing) he hopes with all his might that this will turn out not to be a trap. He doubts it, though – Brienne looks incapable of lying and no one would have come up with such an implausible one if it was the case. And there’s nothing at all that he likes about that story, true or not.

Meanwhile, Robb looks as if he might break down any moment, and the farthest from camp they ride, the worse it gets. Of course it would. Theon’s blood runs cold as he realizes that if the story is indeed true, there’s no way that it can turn out well for anyone involved. They said that Lady Stark is a living corpse now – Robb could hardly bring her back to Riverrun. Not to mention that she’s apparently commanding a band of outlaws – kings can’t exactly allow outlaws to run across their lands and hang whomever they see fit, regardless of any noble intentions.

Theon glances at Robb again as they ride on. His hands are definitely shaking as they grip the reins and it might be the moonlight, but his skin looks ghastly pale. He has a hunch that Robb is coming to his same conclusions.

If it’s the case, then Theon hopes with all his might that the both of them are wrong.


End file.
